


Completion

by Thewordlover



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Tumblr: jaegercon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thewordlover/pseuds/Thewordlover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaegercon bingo prompt: the drift.</p><p> While the rest of the PPDC celebrate their victory with loud music and alcohol, Hermann and Newton hide out in the lab, not ready to leave and unsettled post-drift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Completion

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to Linara, whose critique is helpful and encouraging, and who also suggested the title.

The tapping of Newton’s fingers on the desk edge was the only sound in the lab. It was early, barely sunrise, and both he and Hermann had wandered away from the party out on the main floor in favor of the quiet workspace hours ago. Hermann stood in front of the chalkboard, staring quizzically at a stack of folded cardboard boxes and a roll of tape, which had been there when they opened the door.  
“It’s to pack our stuff,” Newton said. The tapping paused for a moment, then resumed with more vehemence.  
“I am quite aware what they are for, thank you,” Hermann responded, then he added, mostly to himself, “It feels too soon.”  
“You and me both,” Newton replied, his hands rapidly going through a stack of old report files. “I can’t believe- I mean, I know, of course we’re done, what good is K-Science without the K part, but I really think there is just so much more I could learn from these specimens, it’s not like science wouldn't be enriched for-”  
The words sputtered out, as Newton’s thoughts began to run too quickly to say aloud, and he twirled in the desk chair, eyes tracking a buzzing fly, ideas racing faster than the creature, going somewhere Hermann couldn’t follow.  
Hermann wanted for a brief moment to touch them. Which made no sense; one can’t touch thoughts. Except in the drift, of course, when he saw them all flashing by in monochrome, a series of images, full of emotion,sharp and close. Drawing breath sharply, he felt something stiffen in his chest. Newton was oblivious, heading over to one of the tanks.  
Hermann walked over to his desk and sat down. The neat work space, which once was calming, felt sterile. Opening the center drawer, he looked down at the paperclips, pens, stacks of memos. He should clean it out. Remove all traces, as his work was done. They succeeded. K-Science was being discontinued, the whole Shatterdome turned into a storage facility for the information procured during the Kaiju War, a memorial to humanity’s accomplishment. He couldn’t make his shaking hands move, though, damn it. When he finally managed to grab a stack of papers, the first one on top was an complaint he had filed three years ago. It had been returned with a “request denied for official mediation” note.  
“I just wanted you to stop leaving moldy sandwiches in your desk,” he muttered.  
Newton replied from across the room, “They weren’t moldy. I WAS CONSERVING FOOD!”  
“They were a bio-hazard!”  
Hermann shook his head and dropped the old papers on the desk, then stood and walked over to the doorway, where the sounds of the party filled him with an uncomfortable pounding beat.  
Behind him, Newton was all twitchy energy and racing heart. He was familiar with his colleague's presence, had been for several long years now, but only that night could he honestly say he felt it, there, in the corner behind him, an explosion of thoughts and ideas and energy burning inside the thin, brightly-colored skin of a man. Just this side of it all exploding out.  
“Must be an effect of the drift,” he muttered, and Newton asked, “What’s wrong now?”  
Hermann turned toward Newton and said slowly, “ I was just... It seems to me that the drift has continued side effects.”  
Newton stopped scribbling out notes and looked up, eyes meeting Hermann’s as the latter came closer, then sat in Newton’s empty chair. It had been a long night.  
“Do you feel me?” Hermann asked sharply.  
“Uh, what now? Feel you? Is this an attempt at slang?”  
Hermann sighed deeply.  
“No, Newton it is not an attempt at slang. Ever since we drifted earlier this evening, I have had a strangely keen sense of your presence. It was only a few minutes ago that I really understood what it was I was feeling. Your presence is a continual blip on the radar of my own mind.”  
“Oh! Well, now that you mention it, yeah, sure. I do sense something. Must be a faint aftershock of the drift.”  
“Exactly! What is not clear is if this is what the pilots experience, or if our unorthodox methods are to blame.”  
Newton blinked, and Hermann added, “Regardless of the cause, I feel wholly off-balance.”  
Newton was silent for once.  
“Do you?” Hermann prompted.  
“Yeah, sure,” Newton said. “I feel like I’m tight, all closed up, right? Disconnected. Which is ridiculous, because human beings evolved as independent creatures, only conjoined-at-the-head twins ever experience anything similar, and of course we’ve all made it this far but I still feel-”  
His rant stopped, but only because he couldn't find the words. Hermann saw them in his eyes.  
“Empty,” he supplied  
“Which is ridiculous,” Newton protested faintly.  
Hermann shook his head.  
“It was the Drift, Newton. We can’t bring ourselves back from it. Only forward.”  
Then, to Newton’s shock, Hermann reached out and gently touched his hand.  
“Is it possible to- shit, Hermann, what are you doing?”  
Hermann pulled back, shaking his head, his lips forming unintelligible words.  
“What?”  
“Newt, I saw you in the Drift, I understood someone outside of myself, that was one of the most singularly unique and important moments of my life. Do you understand that?”  
Hermann’s voice was shaking a little and his eyes were unfocused. Newt nodded nervously and said, “What, are you saying you want to try to drift again? Because that is a really bad idea.”  
“Of course it is, and thus it doesn’t matter what I want. What matters is, well, thank you. We’ll be leaving, and I don’t know if- when-”  
Newton cut in.  
“Of course I’ll see you. At PPDC family reunions. Who else do I have to yell at? I’ll yell at you in emails if you want! In letters! On the phone!”  
They smiled shyly at each other for a brief moment. Hermann gripped his cane and stiffly rose. Newt stepped forward uncertainly, then just grabbed Hermann, squishing him in a hug that Hermann was frozen in, but then slowly returned, the cane clattering to the floor.  
Hermann would never admit how comforting it was to be close to Newton again, and he felt his own tension and uncertainty about the future drain a little. There he was, his friend. Newton understood him, all those monochrome images bonding them permanently. They weren't empty and apart. The drifted memories were gelling and becoming part of their own minds, a connection strengthening through their present touch, gluing them together in a way miles could never sever. Hermann knew now that Newton was both more aggravating and more good than he had ever thought possible. He had seen flashes of him growing up, getting those damned tattoos, vibrating out of his skull, falling apart, growing. It was painful and illuminating, to have connected in such a way.  
Hermann felt Newton shaking a little in his arms, the man’s thoughts almost visible, almost like the drift again. It was enough. Hermann felt completion settling in.  
Newton finally let go and scrambled for the cane. Hermann fell back into the chair, bad leg cramping.  
“Well- yeah-” Newt said, handing Hermann his cane.  
“Thank you, Newt,” Hermann said, and Newton nodded.  
“No problem, man. Uh, thanks, too. Would you like some help packing up?”  
“Of course.”

As the sun rose, the Pan Pacific Defense Corps celebrated their victory with loud music and flowing alcohol. Down the hall, in the K-Science lab, Hermann and Newton slowly began to gather their things to go, more muted, yet still relieved and proud. They had won, they had helped save the world. Together.  
The drift was a gift they had unintentionally given each other, an understanding of how past informed present that made the bright, twitchy, brilliant, exasperating man currently throwing books into a cardboard box (“They’re fragile!” “Fine. Okay, okay!”) who he was.  
And Hermann knew, knew without having to ask, that Newton had seen him, too. It was a bit embarrassing to know Newton had seen all the tears and pain and and failed dreams of the past. But that was part of the truth, the whole, complicated truth that is every human being. The drift had taken them out of themselves and into a place of connection and compassion. Hermann smiled to himself and taped the box of old complaint forms shut. For the memories.


End file.
